The Morning After it All Went to Hell
by Astra Across the Stars
Summary: Sirius didn't sleep the night of October 31st, and the next day there was hell to pay. T for mild language I'm writing this as an experiment for NaNoWriMo.
1. November 1

Sirius Black stared at a map of Wizarding Britain. It was the morning of November 1, 1981, and he had been up all night. His eyes were raggedly red, his robes dishevelled, and his legs were sore from walking, standing, and Apparating for hours on end.

It was all my fault, he thought as he turned another corner, looking around for some clue. Seeing no one around, he leaped forward, transforming into Padfoot midair. The wind blew and Padfoot lifted his nose in the air. A faint trace of rodent still lingered. He growled. _The traitor was here._

He turned the corner onto a busy street. Muggles walked quickly, passing shops and street lights still lit in the foggy morning air, but one individual stuck out. A dark shadow was running against the flow of foot traffic. Padfoot's eyes narrowed, and he began to run. Dodging cars and feet he soon caught up to the rat who turned around. An expression of terror passed his face as Sirius stepped out from an alley, wand in hand. Peter Pettigrew scrambled backwards into the middle of the street.

Cars honked and swerved around him while Sirius advanced. Muggles stopped and soon the entire block was frozen watching the confrontation.

"You knew I would find you, Peter. Did you really think you could run?" Sirius's voice was dark, his face was almost murderous. He pointed his wand right at Pettigrew's chest. For his part, Peter was cowering, his hands clasped behind his back and fingers fidgeting. Of the two, they both knew Sirius was the better dueler, and if it came down to it, Pettigrew would die. Sirius was as loyal as a dog, and he would avenge his friends, breaking the law if he had to. But the Muggles didn't know that. Nor did they see the sly look cross Pettigrew's face as he stood up straight. Sirius was surprised, though in hindsight he shouldn't have been. This was not the Peter Pettigrew he knew.

"How could you do it, Sirius? How could you betray Lily and James?" Peter yelled so the entire street could hear him. Sirius's eyes widened and he was about to protest when he heard a bang and was sent flying backwards. He looked up just in time to see a rat scurry over his prone form and into a sewage drain.

After a few minutes, Sirius stood up. The once bustling street had now erupted into chaos. Bodies lay strewn across the sidewalk and the air was full of screaming. _After all this time. He really was a rat._ Sirius' sleep-deprived brain began to shut down, and all he could do was laugh.


	2. November 1, Part 2

When the Aurors found him, Sirius was near breaking. Around him, death and destruction lay as testament to Sirius' ultimate failure.

"It's my fault. It's all my fault," was all they could get out of him between laughs. His eyes were wet, due to laughter or grief it was hard to tell. Quickly, Sirius was immobilized, and apparated to the Ministry of Magic. The Muggle street was decimated, and the wizards on the scene began to focus on repairing both the physical damage and the minds of those still present. An Obliviate here, a Reparo there, and soon enough it was done. The next morning, Muggle newspapers would report a gas explosion in the town and the movement for renewable energy would gain a few more staunch supporters, but today all the bystanders could do was mourn.

In the Ministry, Sirius was hastily shoved into a holding cell. His wand had been easily confiscated; Sirius did not resist. He merely sat in the corner, staring at a wall. Whispers of "He's mad, absolutely bonkers," and "Did you hear he killed the Potters?" drifted down the hallway, and in turn, many Ministry employees came to look through the charmed window at the mad murderer. Barty Crouch, Sr. was no exception.

As the head of Magical Law Enforcement, it was his job to oversee justice, and in these troubled times...well justice can get a bit muddled. He had heard the rumours just like everyone else. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was dead, as were the Potters, and it was all because of Sirius Black.

There wasn't much he could do. No one had gotten a straight answer out of Black since his capture, and common knowledge was that Black was the secret keeper. Black sold out the Potters. And because of it You-Know-Who was dead. It was a conundrum. But the real question was why was Black laughing? Was he happy his master was gone? Happy his former friends were dead? Crouch made a mental note to have Remus Lupin sent out of the country. Potter, Pettigrew, Black and Lupin were friends, and now Lupin was the only one not killed by Black.

Inside the cell, Black was still. He had not uttered a word, but he turned in the direction of the window. The window was, of course, charmed to be one-way, but it was as if Black could see him watching. Crouch shuddered at the look in the prisoner's eyes. There it was. The Black Madness.

Crouch turned and retreated back down the hall to his office. He sat down at his desk and sighed. The was was over, that was true. Did they really want to stir up the Wizarding World with the trial of a now infamous traitor and mass murderer? He checked a magical planner near his desk. Emergency powers were still in effect. Wouldn't it be better for everyone to spare them the pain of a long trial while the country was still rebuilding? _Merlin. Magical Britain is halfway to hell already._

Making his decision, he pulled out the file on Sirius Black. He grabbed a quill, made a quick note, and then signed his name with a reluctant flourish. _It will be better this way. Now the country can heal._


End file.
